


Splintering Flames

by TehRaincoat



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action, Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Gen, Intrigue, Other, Political Intrigue, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13325148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehRaincoat/pseuds/TehRaincoat
Summary: Caught in an explosion three years after the Promised Day, Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye and General Roy Mustang scramble to piece together what has happened…And what the consequences might be for the new Regime.





	Splintering Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read! Comments are always welcome, and please bear with me. This is going to be a long fic in two parts and it's taken me years to get to the point where I feel as though I can start to post it.
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

“The cherry treesbend over and are shedding/On the old road where all that passed are dead/Their petals, strewing the grass for a wedding/This early May morn when there is none to wed.”

 

_ ~Edward Thomas “The Cherry Trees” _

 

 

 

Riza

 

 

A damp, brisk, wind ripped up from a side street and the small party of club goers - three men and two women- shrugged further into their heavy, wool, jackets. They scattered across the road toward the burning windows and the heady sound of jazz music pouring from a club. Its name was lit from within a hollow light box, announcing itself to the street. _The Colonels’ Watering Hole_. 

The cobblestones glistened in the light pouring out from the windows, reflecting back the dazzling halogen in warm glints of gold. All of the buildings on the main strip were similarly lit, their cheery countenances a sharp contrast to the seeming gloom of the Post-Bradley roads of Central City. The city itself might have been a ghost town were it not for the rough and tumble joy of the clubs and the drunken patrons jumping from one to the other in an endless stream of parties and dancing. 

Though sinister looking and large, as was the lot in life of most men in his profession, the bouncer let them in without a second glance. It was an attestment, perhaps, to the youth and extroverted nature of the pretty young thing hanging off of the General’s arm. Perhaps also to the intimidating look of the rotund man next to the older blonde woman at the dark-haired man’s back. 

They fractured into the din of the bar easily. 

The nagging tickle that always followed too much tobacco smoke scratched at the back of the blonde’s throat as she stepped into the thick of it, close on the heels of her superior officer. The stale smell of it reminded her of childhood moments spent sitting in her father’s warm study, a trail of blue smoke curling up like fingers through the air from his pipe as he worked.

She thought of the trail of her soft child’s hands over the gritty pages of old books.

Sharp mahogany eyes surveyed the room, taking in its darkest corners, peering passed the swirling haze of smoke. The bludgeoning sound of the drums and brass instruments left a ringing in her ears. She peered at the faces of those closest to them as they laboured their way through the crowd of dancers and merry-makers. She pushed against the onslaught of a few particularly lively men, sending them in the opposite direction of her charges as she turned her head over her shoulder, giving directions with a flick of her eyes alone to the shortest of their number. 

Her subordinate went off into the club inconspicuously, pushing his glasses up his nose as he went, disappearing amongst the other patrons. 

“This ain’t an easy place to canvas, Lieutenant Colonel,” Breda’s miserable mumble could be heard next to her ear over the din. The two of them turned away from the General and his society girlfriend, both of whom were headed for the dance floor without a care in the world. Their dark and auburn heads bobbed and weaved through the people around them.

“Name a jazz club that is,” she said dryly, stepping over some legs sprawled from under the tables to plop herself down unceremoniously on a stool at the bar that had a good vantage point of the crowded room. Bursts of laughter and conversation assaulted them from all sides.

This wasn’t the first time they’d had to be his protection in a bar, and it wouldn’t be the last. They had learned with the precision of those that make a living observing others that they couldn’t wear their uniforms and be inconspicuous in a place like this. The older military generation weren’t liked very much, and the younger recruits never went out on the town in their uniforms unless they were on duty. Things had drastically changed in Amestris. 

“I don’t know how the General stands this,” Breda said, scratching his beard and sitting on the opposite side of her to take his vantage of the door and the front of the room. 

Riza reached forward to straighten Breda’s tie, smoothing her hand down the silk, its raised weave shining just a little in the dim lights of the club. Her red painted lips spread thin into a smile as Breda flushed and reached into his jacket pocket, retrieving his packet of cigarettes even while he signalled to the bar tender that he wanted two drinks. 

The man knew them by face and drink, at this point. Dangerous. But this was Mandy’s favourite haunt, and Roy was, if nothing else, very eager to please. 

Breda drew out a cigarette between his teeth, tossing the packet aside and striking one of the matches on the bar, cupping his hands to light the stick. 

The movement of his arms exposed the holster with his gun, and Riza moved her hands from his tie to his lapels, pulling them closed to hide it before he finally settled his hands down and took a drag of the cigarette. The smoke slipped between his lips and out his nose, circling around Riza before it dispersed. 

She cleared her throat, swallowing back her vague annoyance at the scent and press of the tobacco.

“Thought for sure he’d be on to the next one by now…” True enough. Riza herself was a little surprised by the fact that Roy had yet to grow bored of Mandy. Though there were the political advantages of being attached to her, of course. 

“Well, perhaps Miss. Engels is the one for him,” she drawled. 

Breda snorted as though she had told a particularly good joke and slid the glass that the bar tender set in front of him over, taking a generous sip before setting it back on the bar with a dull _clack_ and a tinkling of the ice cube on the sides of the glass. 

Pinpricks of light skipped off of the surface of the tumbler, scattering rainbow patterns on the dark wood of the counter. Riza picked at the napkin sitting under her own drink, tugging at an earring absently with the other hand before folding it into her lap. 

“Only wish he’d stop staying out so damned late and then expecting us to show up at the office on time in the morning,” Breda mumbled further. Riza rolled her dark eyes, shaking her head. 

“I think his logic is that if he has to do it then we can too.”

“It’s not like we’re doing it voluntarily,” he pointed out sourly, taking another swig of his drink, “we’ve got normal lives to lead too.”

“Then stop saying yes to security detail,” the Lieutenant Colonel snapped back. She shouldn’t have. She was his superior officer, and it was her job to listen to subordinate complaints and address them, but Riza couldn’t shake the feeling that Breda didn’t realise how petty he sounded when he complained about accepting voluntary work. He could just as easily be sitting at home at night, or drinking with one of his _friends_ at another club all together, no cares in the world. 

Riza sighed heavily.

“Sorry. That was uncalled for.” 

Breda shrugged, tucking into his drink again. He’d had harsher rebukes for sillier things, but that didn’t make it all right. Riza pressed her lips together, the chalky taste of her makeup lingering against her tongue. She fought the wince at her reaction that twisted itself behind her features and forced the knot in her chest to untangle. Breda wasn’t one to hold a grudge. 

The two of them were silent a while after that, surveying the bar and the people. The General always managed to look out of place in places like these. He was still young, of course, certainly young enough to be mixing with the crowd, but there was a certain worldliness to the set of his shoulders that made him stick out like a sore thumb. Not for the first time, Riza wondered if she and the others that took care to make certain he wasn’t harmed or made to look the fool stuck out just as obviously. 

She certainly hoped not.

Her mind wandered from Roy then, lost in the fog of the bar. Ladies twirled around in the milling miasma that coated the air and men tapped their toes and others still slumped down on tables and in chairs as the drink took them. She took a sip of her own beverage and grimaced mostly in shock and a little distaste and unpreparedness for the bitter, burning, coat of alcohol that slipped down her throat. 

Riza spat half off her mouthful of beverage back out into the glass, coughing. 

“Hey! You know my order,” she called out to the barkeep. The man laughed at her indignant tone, and Riza’s sharp eyes slid sideways to catch Breda laughing too, face red from trying to suppress what she suspected would have been a gut roll if she had not been so likely to shove a weapon in his face. 

Suspicion lighted, she glanced once again at the amber liquid in Breda’s glass. Not nonalcoholic like it was supposed to be, no doubt. 

‘We’re on _duty_ ,” she griped. Riza’s brow furrowed into a deep frown, and she blinked the water from her eyes rapidly. He continued to chuckle in good humour and took another swig of his own drink, shrugging his shoulders again. 

“Hey, we’ve gotta live a little too. Don’t tell me you can’t hold your liquor, Lieutenant Colonel?” His tone was dry, teasing. Riza snorted, tossing her head imperiously as she narrowed her eyes at the second lieutenant. 

“I could drink you under the table.” 

Breda’s eyebrows raised mild over his eyes at her assertion, but he didn’t argue with her. 

He returned his gaze to the crowd, but nothing more exciting than in-house rows happened in places like these anymore. Still, Riza was wary of others at best. Roy couldn’t very well reach his high aspirations if he was lying somewhere with a bullet in his chest. Not to mention, even minor altercations could tarnish his already shaky public persona. 

The atmosphere of the club was as lucid and inconsistent as the late autumn wind that had spurned them forward into the establishment where they sat. As fast paced and energetic as it had been moments before, the music trained it into a lull. More of the garble of human interaction could be heard than before, burgeoning over the instruments, and the crooning of the singer on stage. The hush of a slow dance fell, and Riza’s eyes found Roy on the dance floor. She watched as the General and hiss squeeze moved closer together, Mandy’s weedy arms stringing themselves around his neck, all sharp elbows, as the two swayed in time with the rest of the crowd. She sighed heavily.

Breda put down a new glass, already half empty, and rested his stubbled cheek in his hand. 

“Look at what our lives have amounted to. It’s as exciting as choosing between sitting at a bar watching someone else have fun, or sitting at our desks and doing paper work.”

“Peace is always better than war,” she said pointedly. The words sounded practiced. She repeated them to herself day in and day out, though she would never admit as much out loud. Riza took another sip of her own drink, managing not to wince this time. The liquid burned its way down her throat and settled warm in her stomach. 

Even saying it like a mantra, she had to admit that she was bored. Riza was terribly, horribly, undeniably, bored. What was worse was that there seemed nothing to do to take away the boredom. The stagnance of every day life after so long had finally started to take its toll. She was stuck in this rut with everyone else and there was nowhere else to go. No way to claw herself out of the pit. 

“Well, I’m going to find the restroom,” Breda excused himself, sitting up and pushing his weight off of the stool. He took the cigarette out from between his teeth, smothering the remainders in the ash tray at his elbow before wading off into the crowd toward the back of the club. 

The music stopped, and Riza shifted in her seat, noting the top of the General’s head as he pushed through the congregated bodies and away from the dance floor, no red head in sight near to him as he bee-lined for the bar. She schooled her expression and turned her back to the crowd, picking up her glass of vodka delicately and letting it hang in her hand, not moving yet to take another drink. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Roy bend over the bar right next to her stool, his body a wall of heat radiating uncomfortably against her arm. Or maybe it was the fact that she had yet to remove her heavy overcoat in the heat of the club. 

Riza shrugged out of it gingerly, standing briefly to settle it under her bottom before she leaned back over the counter, ignoring Roy completely. 

The General turned back to face the crowd, elbows resting heavily against the counter as he did and his body inclined while he watched the milling bodies just beyond them. 

“Evening miss.” His tone was casual, and when Riza finally turned to look at him, trying not to be obviously annoyed at his inability to maintain a ruse in such a situation as this one, it was to see him staring at her with those familiar, dark, eyes and the briefest twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. 

Riza returned his smirk with a dazzling smile of her own, trying to stay in character, before taking another, deeper, drink from her glass. Her hand was steady as she placed it surreptitiously back upon the bar. 

“Where’s that red head you were dancing with? She’s quite lovely,” she asked him, resting a hand on her waist, her other elbow resting on the bar to keep her in her seat. 

He shrugged languidly, the sweat at his temples glinting with the motion as he continued to catch his wind. 

“She’s got more stamina than me, so she’s still dancing. I’m an old man now, I have to take a break once in a while,” he half-joked. Riza snorted, brushing at stray pieces of hair where they tickled around her ear and chin. 

“So you work a desk job, then?” Riza raised an eyebrow, facetious. 

“Something like that,” Roy’s smirk deepened. 

“Roy! Oh Roy!” Mandy came stumbling through the crowd in her silver heels, her knee-length, spring green, frock swaying with her movement. She knocked into a few people who were carrying drinks, spilling them down themselves with a shout of indignation. The slender red head called back an apology over the noise of the crowd and the band with a helpless laugh and then came beaming her way over to the two stationed at the bar. She finally stumbled into the General’s arm, gasping it like an anchor in the sea of people. There was a laugh still on her ruby red lips.

“Can you get me a drink too, sugar?”

“But of course,” Roy said with a laugh of his own, turning and leaning over the bar once more. The barkeep nodded even as he was handing the General his own drink. He brought the glass to his lips as he turned around, making room for his young companion to sit on the stool beside Riza. The younger woman seemed to glow from the inside, the jewels at her ears, neck, and wrists twinkling in the golden light of the room. 

If Riza hadn’t known who her father was, she’d have thought that the jewels were glass. She looked down at the cluster of her own glass beads, distracted a moment.

“Status?” The voice came over the intercom in her ear, hidden beneath her hair. Fuery must have noted the General and the red-head’s presence beside her through his position in the crowd. 

“All clear,” she replied in a murmur, looking away from the couple as though she had lost interest in the conversation as soon as the red head had arrived. 

“Roger.”

Breda returned from his washroom trip, then, and came to stand beside Riza, skillfully ignoring Roy and his companion. His hand found a place at the base of her neck to rest. She supposed it was good that _someone_ could remain in character. Her expression remained passive. 

Riza brought her glass to her lips once more, emptying it. 

Roy offered some of the drink in his glass to Mandy. The younger woman accepted the amber liquid, taking a deep swig, much to Riza’s mild amusement, making a face and setting the cup back in Roy’s hands. Squealing a bit, the red head tossed her hands around as though it would help her swallow the burning liquid. She coughed a little when it finally went down, laughing. 

“My god, what on earth was that?” Her eyes were watering in a way similar to how Riza’s had done when she had had her own drink surprise earlier. Roy laughed, shaking his head as Mandy took out her compact and looked at herself in the little mirror, frowning as she cast about for a napkin to dab at her eyes with. 

“Shall we?” Riza heard Roy ask. He indicated the floor with a sweep of his hand. The red head smiled at him, rubbing something off of his cheek that looked a little like her lipstick with her thumb. She sighed a little.

“Oh, I think I’ll sit out a couple. I’m beat with all these quick dances,” Mandy told him. She bent over to fiddle with the strap on her shoe, and Mustang nodded, his eyes diverting slowly over to Riza. 

The Lieutenant Colonel could feel his eyes and hear the question before he even asked it. 

“What about you, my lovely lady? Will your date give you up for a few dances,” he asked slyly. Breda raised an eyebrow at him and cleared his throat in apparent annoyance. Riza felt her stomach squeeze with the prospect of spending an intimate few dances with Roy on the floor.

“What are you tryin’a pull buddy?” That was Breda for you. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Roy put his hands up placatingly, “Just a friendly dance, I promise.”

“…Only if that’s what you want, doll,” the larger man told Riza, squeezing the back of her neck before releasing her to bend over the bar and order yet another drink. He was going to be plastered when they left this bar if he wasn’t careful. She pressed her lips together a moment and then turned mahogany eyes on Roy.

“I guess one or two dances won’t hurt,” she agreed rather reluctantly. The dark haired man smiled brilliantly, and took her hand. He dragged her from her stool and out toward the busy dance floor. Riza stumbled over a few people’s feet, but managed to keep to her own whilst squeezing through the press of bodies to follow after the General.

Roy pulled her close, hand smoothing down to the small of her back with practiced ease before they began to dance. 

“Lieutenant Colonel.” Roy’s voice was warm over the din of the music. 

“General,” Riza returned. As feared, this would be yet another of a series of awkward interactions between the two of them. Riza frowned, hiding the expression in Roy’s chest as they continued to move with the music. 

“You look very pretty in red…” Unimpressed, Riza raised her eyebrows and a mild expression up to her superior officer. 

“Thank you,” she replied dryly. Roy was flushed from the exercise. Riza made note to fit in a fitness regime that would help him keep in shape as they continued along a path to yet more desk jobs and work inside of the office instead of out in the field. He’d probably feel better for it, sharper. 

“I haven’t really…had the chance for a real conversation with you in a while,” he began as casually as he could muster. 

Riza’s mouth twisted a little at the words. 

“There hasn’t been much to converse about,” she pointed out. Riza knew his schedule to a t. She spent most of her day obsessing over the minute details of it, making certain everything ran smoothly and that he was kept in line, as she had always done. Being the General’s aid hadn’t changed much of her job description, other than her rank. 

“Well…no I suppose not,” he admitted reluctantly. His chest expanded and then compressed as he let out a sigh, and Riza bit back one of her own, wishing that they could be as natural with one another as they had been in times past. 

You seem happy together with Miss Engel,” she finally ventured, trying to change the topic to anything but their daily lives. Mandy was a part of that too, though, as Breda had pointed out. They spent more time with Roy and Mandy together away from the office than they did in the office some days. 

Roy smiled almost bashfully at the comment. 

“I am,” he answered, seemingly unable to help the grin that split his face from ear to ear. Her eyes widened a fraction, but she quickly snapped out of it. Well, well. 

“Mandy’s…great. She’s just — “ Roy struggled with finding the words, and Riza watched as he considered how to put whatever he wanted to say. “I guess it’s nice…to find someone so optimistic about the world. Someone who doesn’t have our baggage. It’s refreshing.” 

That was the truth. Riza found that she could understand the compulsion, a little. She thought, however, that eventually he would want someone with a shared experience. Sometimes one couldn’t be eternally optimistic about the world. Sometimes, one had to share the darkest parts of themselves with another. Riza wondered if Mandy would ever be able to offer Roy that sort of solace.

“I’m…really glad to hear it.” And she was. Riza hadn’t seen him happy in a very long time…In fact she was certain that the last time he had been truly happy was before the war, back East in that little town that both of them had called home for so long. That was before father had passed. It seemed like a million lifetimes ago. A life that had been lived in a dream.

“Thanks.” Roy’s expression held something soft and unnamed in it, and Riza looked away from him again. 

“Riza I — “ She looked back up at the General, expectant, surprised at the use of her first name. 

A tremor rocked the club. At first Riza thought that it was the drums, but the thunder which followed quickly on its heals crawled along her skin and settled heavily in her chest, trapped behind her ribs. The feeling was so familiar as to wrap itself around her like an oppressive blanket, and as screams went up in the club, the lights flickering, she grabbed for the General, pushing him down in time for the glass of the windows to shatter inward into the panicking crowd. 

“ —awk—eye! Lieut—!” Fuery’s voice was broken over the comm in her ear, barely audible over the din, and heavy bodies tossed her to and fro, her grip hard on Roy’s arm as she fought to maintain her hold on him. 

He came toward her through the throng, grabbing hold of both of her arms with his own, holding Riza steady as they got their bearings, struggling not to fall amongst the press of the bodies around them. 

“General Mustang we need to get you out of here right now!” Hard gazes met over the crowd, and they swayed as they were shoved, turning toward the exit that everyone was rushing toward in desperation. Going out the front was probably a bad idea…going against the crowd would be just as dangerous. 

Riza’s heart beat hard in her chest, ears picking up the sound of bomb sirens through the frames of the empty windows. Was it an air raid? They hadn’t been expecting a damn thing. Her sharp eyes turned suddenly to search for her teammates, and for Roy’s girlfriend. She could see Fuery with Mandy in his grasp, struggling back over the bar where there was empty space to move, heading for the back exit in lieu of the front. 

She couldn’t see Breda. 

Riza’s thoughts turned to the handgun in her clutch. Shooting off a round in the club would only cause more panic at this point, and escalate the situation further. There was another dull thunder in the distance, and more screams from some of the patrons around them as it rumbled toward them in echoes off of the buildings that surrounded the club outside. 

It was time to go.

“Fuery has Mandy! We need to get you out of here!” She could feel Roy tense under her hands, but Riza was in no mood for objections. She dragged him back, pushing against the onslaught of the horde of club goers. 

He stayed close, free hand on her shoulder to assure her that he was still there, that it was still him and not someone else that she had hold of as she made her way toward the exit through the sea of people. Riza huffed out a breath, flushed as she battled their way toward safety. 

Shouts and scuffles broke out around them, and Roy shoved someone off of them before he could bang into Riza, the smaller of the two soldiers glancing back only once before she caught sight of the door to the outside. She made a line for it, breaking free of the crowd finally and stumbling forward, Roy banging into her back before they recovered and shoved their way out in time to see Mandy and Fuery panting outside the doorway, leaning against the side of the building in the cold rain. 

“Where’s Lieutenant Breda,” Riza demanded breathlessly. Fuery looked up, shaking his head. His glasses were fogging up in the cold air, moisture thick on the lenses from the rain and the heat of his own flesh. 

“ _Shit_.” She turned back to the building, gazing hard at the door. They couldn’t just leave him behind. Something must have happened. She hadn’t seen him by the bar when she’d scouted for Mandy before. 

“Did you see where he went?” Fuery took off his glasses, wiping at them as he blinked rapidly. 

“I think he was going to the washroom again when the bomb went off,” he supplied, sounding pained, “but I can’t be sure. He didn’t check in and then it all went to hell.” 

The restrooms were at the other side of the club from where they stood, and she was uncertain how many were still within, trying to push their way out. Two patrons spilled out into the alley suddenly, and Riza’s posture became defensive before relaxing as she watched the couple stumble away. 

In the street beyond, some soldiers ran passed.

Riza shot Roy a look, and the General’s eyebrows drew down low, lips parting as he made to forbid whatever she might be thinking, no doubt. 

“I’m going back in,” she asserted before Roy could say a thing. Fuery straightened, about to volunteer as well, but Riza gave a sharp shake of her head. “Fuery take the General and miss Engel to the car. I’ll get Breda and meet you back at the office when I can.”

“But Lieut — “

“That’s an order, soldier,” Riza’s voice cracked like a gunshot. Fuery straightened out of habit, expression stiff as he saluted her. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Roy stared long and hard at Riza as Fuery began to herd Mandy toward the street, and the two of them stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity to Riza before Roy too turned and started out of the alley. The Lieutenant Colonel took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she felt the rain dampening her frozen skin, and then she turned back toward their exit, plunging in through the door. 


End file.
